i talk about being homeless…but i’m not. i always have a place…a collection of places that would recieve me happily or unhappily until i was back on my feet. tonight, while walking back from bingets in the quarter with a friend a frail voice called out to me asking if i would call 911. it was a small body crumpled akwardly on the steps with his head resting on an upside down skateboard.

i’d seen what looked like a police truck just a block back so i ran to it and instead found it was a homeless van, but there were police inside and so one officer followed me down. as we approached the man another officer came running up as well. they talked to the man, bent over asking him who he was and where he lived and then i guess they noticed his twitching and called for help. walking away from the scene i noticed vomit on the steps. across the radio they reported a man having a seizure.

the cop called a thank you after us and i waved and walked on. but it felt odd to talk and joke as a man lay akwardly on cold lonely steps.